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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24396313">Saudade</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dismiss_your_fearsx/pseuds/dismiss_your_fearsx'>dismiss_your_fearsx</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Poldark (TV 2015), Poldark - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bromance, Canon Compliant, Demelza and Caroline miss their husbands, Female Friendship, Friendship, Gap Filler, Multi, Post-The Angry Tide, Reunions, Ross and Dwight miss their wives, post-s5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:54:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,081</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24396313</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dismiss_your_fearsx/pseuds/dismiss_your_fearsx</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Saudade (n.): the feeling of missing something or someone; a sense of incompleteness. </p>
<p>A two-part fic detailing the end of Ross and Dwight's adventures in France in 1802, from the point of view of the men and the beloved women they left behind in Cornwall.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Demelza Carne/Dwight Enys/Caroline Penvenen/Ross Poldark, Demelza Carne/Ross Poldark, Dwight Enys/Caroline Penvenen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>64</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello! Some of you may recognise the first chapter of this fic as I originally posted it on Tumblr, but I have expanded on it and will post the second half soon. I hope you enjoy my take on what happens post-S5 and between the seventh and eighth books! Let me know your thoughts. I hope you are all keeping well xo</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p>Bereft of their wives’ company for upwards of three months, Ross Poldark and Dwight Enys sat in a French inn in a small town called Rouen, feeling glum and dipping their toes a stream of self-pity.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Ross sighed heavily as he pushed a carrot around in the stew he had ordered. The days had been long and the tasks they were filled with wearisome. His time in France had felt even more wearisome for the absence of his wife's comforting presence. <span>She was not only his wife, but also his lover, his confidante, his companion, his friend; she was everything - the saving grace of his life.</span> In truth, he felt a little lost - a small matter incomplete - without her touch, and without her guidance.</p>
  <p>“I miss Demelza,” Ross mumbled at last. He ate a spoonful of stew and then grimaced. “And her cooking.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The cosy, well-lit inn was mostly quiet, save for five Frenchmen and the two Englishmen who inhabited its old, creaky quarters.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I miss Caroline,” Dwight chimed in, also with a heavy sigh. His mouth then twisted slightly, “I even miss Horace.” In truth, Dwight had missed the snuffling weight on his lap whenever he wrote his correspondence these past few months. Sitting at a desk was just not the same without the small dog’s presence after all these years.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Ross chuckled and dipped a chunk of bread into his bowl. “I wager Horace does not miss you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Nor Caroline,” Dwight offered with a chuckle. How wrong he was.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A smirk stretched across Ross’ handsome features. “Caroline would say you neglect her daily so your absence in France is no different to the natural way of things.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dwight’s laugh bounced off the walls of the quiet pub and disturbed an elderly Frenchman who was reading a newspaper, who then glared at Dr Enys for the interruption. “That is precisely what she would say! I suppose she would be right.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“And what of Demelza?” Ross asked thoughtfully, softly, before taking a bite of his supper. “What would she say?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dwight considered this briefly as he ripped apart his piece of bread. “She would simply say that you try her hard with your absences,” he offered. Then, with a slightly raised eyebrow, he added: “Not in the least because you leave her in charge of all of your affairs!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“She manages,” Ross argued with a casual shrug. He then smiled as he cupped his tankard of port. “She manages better than I in some respects.” <em>In all respects</em>, Ross fondly thought to himself.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Of course she manages,” Dwight dismissed casually; Demelza managed everything and anything she set her mind to, “but she should not <em>have</em> to manage your mine, your farm, your affairs, your house, your children...,” he pointedly listed with a fully raised eyebrow.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It was true, Demelza should not have to, but she did so, and without complaint. He was a man of great fortune. The ghost of a smirk sat on Ross’s face as he examined his friend. “You take her side?” Ross wondered.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Always,” Dwight answered smoothly, taking a drink of his brandy and setting it back down on the table.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Ross’ smirk faded into a small frown. “But I am your closest friend,” he said, looking down his nose at the doctor.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Ah,” acknowledged Dwight with a chuckle and a pointed index finger, “but Demelza is my <em>dearest</em> friend, having long since surpassed you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“On what grounds?” asked Ross, feigning offense, already knowing the likely answer to his question.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Your idiocy."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The shaking of the table indicated that Ross was laughing, though he tried to hide it behind his cup; Dwight laughed, too.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>How their wives would have laughed with them were they here. “Oh, Ross, may we not go home soon? This week, perhaps?” Dwight asked, his blue eyes pleading. He never wanted to look at the streets of France again, he just wanted go home to Cornwall and remain there until he died an old man.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Ross looked at him. “You may,” he granted, before sighing - thinking of a small mission not yet completed. “I may not.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Nor I,” Dwight grudgingly lamented, thinking of dear Cornwall, of the sea, of the cliffs, of home, of Caroline, of their pug, of Demelza, of the Poldark children, of his patients, of all that he loved. He sighed again.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Ross’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he took another spoonful of stew. “Oh? Have you more business here?” he inquired. Dwight had been absorbed - almost to the point of obsession - in his work with Dr Pinel researching disorders of the mind.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yes,” answered Dr Enys, the ghost of a smirk on his features, “the business of bringing you home to Demelza in one piece!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Ross gently rolled his eyes. “I can take care of myself,” he promised seriously. Why did the three closest people in his life sometimes treat him as if he were a child? He was not <em>that</em> reckless. Was he?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dwight shot his oldest friend a look. “A more blatant falsehood I’ve yet to hear,” he quipped, motioning to a stitch he had sewn into the back of Ross's hand not three days ago.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A smile tugged at the corners of Ross’s mouth. “Perhaps you're right. That is what Demelza would call a ‘strappin’ great tale’,” he said with a laugh; Dwight breathed a chuckle of agreement.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The two men then fell silent as they finished their meals, each lost in thoughts of home.</p>
  <p>
    <span>Dwight could almost see Caroline as she was now: lying in their bed, the curtains drawn, a book in her hand - no doubt some jellies in the other - Horace snuffling at her blanketed feet. He hoped to God she was remembering to blow out the candles in their bedchamber, she had a hellish habit of forgetting to do so and he would return early in the morning from an emergency visit to find the curtains almost ablaze. </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>They wrote to each other often, but it was not the same as being in her company - nothing could ever amount to that. Every night</span>
    <span> it was she who occupied his last thoughts of the day. Always her; her tinkling laughter, her smile, her teasings, the lights of her hair, her eyes as she gazed at him. He would never admit this to her for she would tease him within an inch of his life for the rest of time. Oftentimes his mind also drifted to Sarah, and the place where she slept eternally - he hoped Caroline had been laying an extra flower on her visits. Though it would never be possible to overcome such a loss altogether, he found that the pain - once a sharp, searing fire which burned everything in its path - had subsided to that of a dull ache. The thought of welcoming another child into their family no longer filled him with feelings of grief or guilt, but hopeful excitement. He would have to discuss the matter with Caroline again upon his return. She would likely object under the guise of one superficial reason or another - but what Caroline said and what Caroline felt were two different matters entirely, and, knowing her as he did, he truly believed they were now on the same page in this regard. Dwight flashed an involuntary hopeful smile and disguised it with a drink of brandy.<br/></span>
  </p>
  <p>Ross could picture Nampara in his mind's eye. Demelza, growing in size, would be bustling about - hating to be idle. This attribute was a blessing, for Prudie was no doubt snoring somewhere about the house, stealing her wage. Just now, in the evening, Demelza was likely sitting by the hearth and knitting something - a blanket for their new friend, perhaps. The children, who followed her more closely than her own shadow, would be on the floor by her feet, or curled up on the bench next to her. Garrick would be wheezing miserably next to the heat of the fire, if he was still alive - that dog had outlived grown men. He thought more of his children: How tall had Jeremy grown now? And how was Clowance progressing with her literacy? He wondered for a moment if they thought him almost a stranger - indeed, he'd had so many absences from home during the span of their short lives thus far. Still, they always seemed genuinely glad to see him, and embraced him wholeheartedly, which gladdened his heart in a way he could never hope to describe. Perhaps he would be able to spend a longer time at home with his family when the new child arrived.</p>
  <p>With a jolt, Ross remembered that he had stepped on an orange leaf earlier today: the harvest season was fast approaching. His fourth child would be born soon.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Perhaps,” said Ross suddenly as he wiped his mouth, thoughts of Demelza and home echoing in his mind. “Perhaps we can gain passage on the <em>One And All</em> on Sunday.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“<em>This</em> Sunday?” Dwight asked, hardly daring to allow the excitement to creep up in his bones.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“This Sunday,” Ross confirmed, the cogs in his mind spinning. “I would require your assistance with a task of mine, but I believe between the two of us we could complete it within the next few days. I shall explain the details of it tomorrow, over breakfast.” He thought seriously about that for a moment. Yes, Dwight was discreet enough for such a mission - Ross truly believed they could manage it between the two of them. “And I’ll inquire as to our chances of gaining passage on Sunday.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dwight beamed at his friend next to him. “Ross, I could kiss you!” he enthused. <em>They could finally go home!</em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Please, don’t,” Ross muttered gravely, though there was a small smile on his face. “As an agent for The Crown I would be obliged to report you for indecency and you would be hanged,” he warned without heat.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You, too, would hang,” Dwight argued with a grin, “as my accessory.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Ross nodded and suppressed a laugh. “Then pray keep yourself over there, for if we were hung I fear our dear wives would somehow revive us so that they may hang us again themselves.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I thought I was your closest friend?” Dwight teased, nudging him gently. “Would you not swing from the gallows in the name of friendship?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You know full well I would,” Ross said seriously. “But let us not hang for a reason so trivial and preventable. We’ve a home to return to on Sunday, after all.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Shall we drink to that?” Dwight chirped, knowing that, to Ross, such a toast would cement the thought as a reality.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Ross motioned to the barkeep to refill their tankards. “We shall.”</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>As promised, here is the reunion chapter! Enjoy! I hope you are all keeping safe and well during these difficult times - let's strive to look after ourselves and each other. Sending lots of love to you all xx</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Do you know, my dear, in another life, had you not married Ross, I feel very strongly that I would have employed you as my ladies maid,” Caroline declared as she admired the simple yet pretty updo Demelza had fashioned her blonde locks into. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Demelza laughed good-spiritedly; Caroline was the only person whose gentle teasing never stung, as there was always a hint of truth in whatever she said. “I was a kitchen maid, not a ladies maid,” Demelza reminded her well-bred friend. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, you would have made an excellent one,” Caroline determined, still peacocking in the vanity mirror, Demelza standing behind her. “How on earth have you such a fine technique? You could teach dear Hicks a thing or two, you know.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A modest blush flushed Demelza’s porcelain skin. “Oh, I dunno about that,” she protested with a nervous laugh. “I just practice on Clowance, I suppose, she is always askin’ Prudie and I to teach her how to be a lady, not that we two know much about it,” she and Caroline both shared a quiet chuckle at that, “I s'pose I just got used to doing it from all those times,” Demelza realised, her warm, modest manner radiating from her - as was a sense of motherly accomplishment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A shadow of sorrowful envy fell across Caroline’s face but vanished with the flickering of the candle flame. “So, I have dear Clowance to thank for my hairdo. Let us hope Dr Enys responds accordingly,” she said with a mischievous glint in her blue eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Demelza laughed and moved to sit on the end of her bed, kneading her tired back muscles. “They may not be home tonight,” Demelza cautioned her friend, though not without a pang of longing and sadness on her own behalf. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ross Poldark and Dwight Enys had been gone for five and four months, respectively, and their highly-anticipated and long-awaited return from France was due to be settled this evening. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They will be; Dwight’s word is his bond, and his letter promised the twenty-second,” Caroline said simply, though her chin tilt was not as strong as it might have been were she fully convinced of the fact.  She then rose from the vanity chair and took a few short steps towards the Poldark bed, before flinging herself as graciously as possible next to Demelza. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Demelza joined, uncaring as to how graciously or ungraciously she flopped onto the bed next to Caroline. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I miss Ross,” Demelza breathed as she stared up at the canopy above their bed. She felt tears prick her eyes, but they couldn’t be helped. How many more nights would she have to spend alone in their marital bed? Already it felt like it she had lived half her life this way.<br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Caroline smoothed Demelza’s hair soothingly; it was such a natural action she wasn’t even conscious of it. All the time spent with Demelza these past few months was bringing out the inner goodness so fought so hard to contain amongst walls of sarcasm and self-deceit. “I know, my dear. We must take heart in the knowledge that he will be home soon, along with our dear Dr Enys.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I worry when Ross is away so long.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought you might have grown used to it while Ross was acting as an MP,” Caroline admitted, but it was not a judgement. “But fear not, I do not think Ross is in any real danger abroad. And Dwight is keeping him on a long leash, but it is a leash nonetheless.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not his safety that I worry for - though of course it does trouble me at times.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then what worries you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sometimes,” Demelza began, wetting her wobbly dry lips, “I worry that Ross’s long absences are an escape of sorts... from me.” Caroline looked sharply at her friend. “I mean, what am I compared to the... excitement of business on behalf of The Crown? Or the streets of Paris? Or its beautiful women...” Demelza sighed heavily again. “I’m as fat as an old duck, why make haste to return home when he might find better elsewhere?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, Demelza, my dear, forgive me but sometimes you do talk an inordinate amount of nonsense! Ross would not dream of it. He loves you and his life and home. I wager he cares not that you are, as you say, a fat duck. He is already beside himself with worry about you, and your condition, and has said so on many...” Caroline stopped short when she realised she had overshared information that had been promised to the strictest confidence. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Demelza’s eyes grew wide and she sharply pulled herself up into a sitting position. “What did you say?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? What do you mean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, Caroline, pray don’t be coy now. Has Ross written to you? About me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Caroline huffed a sigh, annoyed she had betrayed her friend’s confidence; Ross had not wanted Demelza to feel as though he were spying on her from afar. “Yes, he has written,” Caroline admitted vaguely, “I will not quote him to you, but you must believe me when I say that he would never wish to escape you or his family. No, truly, I believe he thinks of you always. He likely inspected my letters closely for the slightest whiff of Nampara.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Feeling her eyes prick with tears, Demelza averted her gaze from her friend. She smiled down at the blanket between her fingers. “I’m that glad,” she murmured. “Of course, I d’</span>
  <em>
    <span> know</span>
  </em>
  <span> that already - that Ross loves me and the children. I s’pose I get a small matter insecure when I’m expecting.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course,” Caroline acknowledged. “Perhaps you should tell him so, men do not think of these things, and perhaps we should not expect them to when we stay silent on such matters. Though pray discuss it with Ross in person if you wish to have a sensible conversation. My dear, I don’t know how you beared it when Ross was in London all those months,” Caroline said with a wrinkled nose. “He is a dreadful writer, so vague and direct. He hardly dares to write a word of emotion.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Demelza chuckled in agreement. “Yes, it was tryin’.  I did not care much for this MP or that MP or the London people he met - I only wished to know how he was, and he never told me! But I know he always means well. He admits the fault himself. What of Dwight? Is he any less vague than my dear husband?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dr Enys fancies himself a poet at times,” Caroline mocked. “He ought to stick to his potions and leave the written word to people who know what to do with it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From the pretty blush on her cheeks, Demelza discerned that Dwight did, for all of Caroline’s objections, know what to do with the written word. “Well, he certainly won’t find any advice on the matter from Ross,” Demelza joked, to which both women shared a giggle at the expense of their beloved husbands and allowed a warm feeling of camaraderie to wash over them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you for telling me of Ross’s letters; I’m pleased, no, </span>
  <em>
    <span>heartened</span>
  </em>
  <span> that he always thinks of me. I’m glad he still likes me as I am and always have been, that he doesn’t wish for me to be more genteel or- or French or such like, for I fear I’m too old to change now.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m relieved to hear it, as I’m sure Ross would be.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a few moments of comfortable silence had passed, Demelza spoke, “Caroline...” Her tone was littered with caution. <br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Caroline trembled inwardly: whenever Demelza felt the need to be cautious in her manner, it meant she wanted to discuss something emotional or important - or emotionally important. “Yes?” Caroline wondered at length. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I- I must thank you, for all you’ve done during the time that Ross has been absent... it means a great deal-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was nothing,” Caroline coolly interjected, though she squeezed Demelza’s hand warmly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Twisting her upper torso as best she could, Demelza eyed her best friend long enough so that Caroline had no choice but to meet her gaze. Caroline inwardly despaired at the tears that had gathered in Demelza’s eyes. “Truly,” Demelza insisted, with a grateful sniff. “With lending us a farm hand, allowing Jeremy and Clowance to stay a night here an’ there at Killwarren, supplying almond biscuits, bigger skirts, listening to my rantin’ and ravin’... I’d always been certain of my six brothers but I never imagined I could have a sister.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a measure of Demelza’s sincerity that Caroline found her famed sense of wit and glibness lost. She could only murmur in return: “I, too, have always considered you so.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Demelza leaned her forehead against Caroline’s, so that their respective fiery red curls and tamed golden locks almost intertwined. They shared a warm giggle. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, dearest sister,” Demelza mocked once they had solved the case of their giggles, “would you care to fetch a pot of tea? The baby and I have a powerful thirst. T’would be the sisterly thing to do!” Demelza could barely contain her laughter, the task of which was made all the more difficult by Caroline’s collectedness. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought it was I who was the great lady, and you the kitchen maid?” she shot back in her usual deadpan manner, though her eyes danced with mirth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Demelza nudged her golden-haired friend, a smirk on her face. “You just say that because you do not rightly know where to begin where making a pot of tea is concerned!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How true!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Through the shrieks of their girlish laughter, they could barely hear Prudie’s announcement. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They be comin’ over the hill, maid! Cap'n Poldark and Dr Enys be comin' over the hill!” the servant loudly informed Demelza, shrieking in her own excitement that Ross would be home any moment and that mistress could rest her body and soul. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The women upstairs joined in Prudie’s excitement and hauled themselves off the bed and down the stairs with unbridled haste. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>“Is there any better sight in all the world than the sight of one’s own home?” Ross wondered as he and Dwight trudged over the hill leading to Nampara, the former feeling philosophical upon his return to Cornwall. They had tied their horses to a tree in the distance, wishing to walk on Cornish soil for a while.<br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I would not know, my friend, for we are staring at Nampara, and not Killwarren,” came Dwight Enys’s jesting reply.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ross rolled his eyes, but in good nature. “But Caroline will be inside,” he reminded the doctor, nudging him suggestively for good measure. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A happy sigh escaped Dwight’s lips at the thought. “Yes, she will,” he murmured. “And dearest Demelza.” A wry smile then formed on his lips and he laughed at the thought. “I wonder what our dear wives have been up to in our absence.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Only God in His Heaven knows that!” Ross chirped with a fond grin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No doubt He is so scandalised as to not enlighten us further.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Perhaps when we die,” Ross offered, a thoughtful smirk on his face as he imagined that there might be some divine book filled with anecdotes of missing moments from his family’s lives which he might become privy to. He lived and would die in hope of such a thing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now it was Dwight’s turn to grin. “Do you really suppose after decades of devilry that you will be granted the opportunity to meet the Lord?” Dwight jested, but with a measure of half-heartedness: for he was at times slightly concerned about the fate of his friend’s soul. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ross’s merry laugh bellowed across the field and floated up to the house, the sound music to the inhabitant’s ears. “After years of being my accomplice to such devilry, why do you suppose your fate shall be any different from mine?” Ross countered, feeling as though he had caught Dwight’s king on a chess board. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dwight’s only response was a hefty yet friendly shove on the arm, which caused Ross to lose his footing and fall over, which - in turn - caused both men to laugh like schoolboys. Dwight, still shaking with laughter, tried to pull Ross back to his feet, but the latter was so limp with amusement it was like pulling a thousand kilogram sack of potatoes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Only a sudden sound caused them to pause their hysterics and look up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ross!” Demelza called across the field, the excitement and emotion in her voice not lost in the echo. She clutched her skirts and continued to run as fast as her legs would carry her womanly shape.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dear God, Demelza! Mind the rabbit holes!” Caroline fretted as she followed her friend with her lace skirt lifted; she was quite impressed by how quickly Demelza could move in her condition. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ross’s jubilant laugh lit up his tired face and ignited a fire in his heart at the sight of his wife running towards him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dwight’s immediate reaction to share in the joy was submerged by his professional concern for the safety of Demelza and her unborn child. “Ross, pray go to her before she catches her foot on a rabbit hole,” Dr Enys instructed to thin air as Ross Poldark was already sprinting ten yards ahead of him towards Demelza. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His sprint had slowed to a light jog so that he and Demelza would not crash into each other, though Demelza did not appear to be slowing down any. Ross held out his hands to catch her face and then kissed her with a fire that would have shamed the summer sun. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once they broke, he leaned back and examined Demelza closely, a smirk dancing on his lips as she squirmed uncomfortably under his clinical gaze. After a moment, Ross kissed her again, gently this time. “Beautiful,” came his verdict. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A light blush washed over Demelza’s face and she grinned at her husband. Ross placed his hand on the large swell that came between them. “I’m pleased to see that you have not been altogether starving our dear friend.” He bent down and placed a tender kiss just below where his hand rested. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t mock me, Ross, I’m as fat as an old fat duck,” Demelza lamented quietly, though her eyes were still alive and happy at the sight before her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ross’s hand drifted from Demelza’s belly to her hand, which he clutched between his own and gently pulled her along so they may walk together. “Ducks happen to be my favourite farm animal,” he teased. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He received a light swat on the arm for his comment, though it stung not with pain but with the excitement of being in Demelza’s company once more. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, Ross, tell me of France...” Demelza then ordered dreamily, in a bid to change the topic from her rotund physique which she found a no less mortifying ordeal than the previous three times. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ross pulled her closer to his side as they walked back towards the house, his hand resting on her back. “It rained; it stank; my French skills are still much to be desired. The mission was, however, a success and so that is what is important.” Before Demelza could enquire further, Ross said, “Now tell me of Cornwall, and the children.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, Cornwall is the same as ever,” she began with a light sigh, “sometimes hot, sometimes cold, sometimes rainy, always windy.” Ross chuckled at that. “Jeremy and Clowance are both well. They are supping at Mr and Mrs Hoskings tonight, but they have missed you greatly and so will be home for pudding, I reckon,” Demelza chirped, resting her head on Ross’ shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pudding...,” Ross practically moaned at the thought of eating homemade food. “What’s for pudding? And for supper, for that matter?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Supper is fish and potatoes and pudding is your favourite,” Demelza taunted gently, a wide, knowing smile on her face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ross stopped them at the threshold to Nampara and looked at her, a hopeful smile tugging on his lips. “Not spiced apple cake?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course!” Demelza crowed, knowing her husband all-too-well. She then nudged him teasingly. “Why, are you not hungry for it?” she wondered, already anticipating his answer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ross grinned and placed his hand to the small of Demelza’s back as they stepped into their home. “On the contrary, I am always hungry for apple cake...” he leaned into her ear, “...and you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His tone sent a shiver down Demelza’s spine and a light blush flushed across her cheeks. “Well, why do we not first see how the cake fares in curing your appetite?” she flirted lightly, leaning up on her tiptoes to kiss him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He flashed a wicked grin at her and Demelza smiled in return, thinking of how much she had missed her husband and his wolfish smiles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The mouthwatering aroma of Demelza’s baking hung in the air, and a sense of home engulfed Ross. He drew her closer to him and kissed her again. “Oh, I assure you, my love, cake alone will not suffice.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the forgotten garden behind them, the Enyses has finally caught up to each other. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dwight grinned as Caroline came to stand in front of him, looking radiant in a pale blue lace gown he had never seen before; her hair also looked softer, more relaxed, but still elegant in her usual way. He immediately leaned in to kiss his wife, a moment he had been dreaming of for months on end.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Caroline ducked by way of avoiding his attentions, a playfully arched eyebrow aimed at her husband’s confused features. “I note that </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> did not run to </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Dr Enys,” she teased, crossing her arms for added dramatic effect. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I note nor did you,” Dwight countered, chuckling and making a childish face at her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Caroline scoffed sarcastically, playing the role of vapid heiress, “In these shoes?” She lifted her skirt up to display the seemingly new, white brogue-heels. A wry smile was painted on her face, which otherwise betrayed her feelings of happiness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dwight laughed and placed his hands firmly on her waist and drew her to him. “My love, may I remind you that you once rode sixty miles through torrential rain because you could not wait a mere four-and-twenty hours? Your pretence is a wasted effort.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Again, Caroline scoffed at him - this time flustered to be reminded of her own softness. “Well, did you ever suppose that I was simply curious to see if you had come out of hiding? I was beginning to think you were a figment of my imagination. I only wished to be convinced of my own sanity, and then you insisted on following me home.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Caroline, sometimes you talk too much,” he teased in a murmur. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A fault I have warned you of many a time, Dr Enys; and, against your better judgement, you insisted on having me as your wife. So, you see, the fault is now yours,” Caroline countered, inching her face closer to his and dangling her arms over his broad shoulders. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I should have you know, my love, I have yet to make a better decision.” Dwight’s hands moved to cup her face, before his fingers delicately tucked some stray curls behind her ears. In her peripheral vision, Caroline could see the last of the sun-rays waving goodbye to her and this long-awaited day. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As Dwight at last firmly pressed his lips against hers, revelling in the feeling of her hands firmly on his shoulders and his arms wrapped tightly around her waist, he reflected on what Ross had said earlier and came to a somewhat belated conclusion. It was true enough that Nampara was not Dwight’s home, but nor was Killewarren. It was Caroline. It was also true that there was, indeed, no better sight than home.</span>
</p>
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